I’m Columbus
on a journey
thinking I know
where it ends
but these trees
don’t look familiar
and the faces seem
so strange
I’m Columbus
on a journey
accidentally
finding newness
in the place
I least expected
because I dared
to sail off
the edge
of the map
A red, red
Train of thought
Singular strain
Never be bought
Crazy, wild
Shifty drought
Into which
I am now caught
sleep
slip
silently
into
internal
isolation
drifting
dreaming
dangerously
falling
from
fate
born, birthed into a dark place
squalling, hot tears on a red face
dirt, unresisting cradle of sod
cobwebs, spiders spinning a cap of lace
helpless, laying where angels dare not trod
waiting, hoping for some act of God
flailing, weak and stubborn little mite
strange, wee ethereal creature most odd
squinting, young eyes searching for first sight
knowing, somewhere there must be light
hope, in unlikely foreign ground
strength, unreasonable will to fight
patient, lying in a mound
pensive, listening for some sound
mystery, to simply astound
unknown, undiscovered yet renowned
barren hills
the color of flesh
its fair earth
throbbing with
a current of blood
ridges and valleys
this miniscule part
of a human whole
one finger tip
a vast geography
stands unexplored
The Wisdom of Gavroche 